


you're the compromise (that never falls through)

by devirnis



Series: (You Could Be My) Ever After [5]
Category: Gears of War (Video Games)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 20:57:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5020270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devirnis/pseuds/devirnis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Annoyingly enough, it's Baird who first notices that something is wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're the compromise (that never falls through)

**Author's Note:**

> So... not a new chapter of Fallout. But I really needed to take a break to write something happy and fluffy. Hope you enjoy the distraction regardless.
> 
> The title comes from [Decided To Break It](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3n6i7XSxlUw) by Marianas Trench (of course)

**you're the compromise (that never falls through)**

 

Annoyingly enough, it's Baird who first notices that something is wrong.

Sam's been feeling off for days. Not _sick_ , just… off. A little more tired in the mornings than she usually is, less of an appetite, perhaps wearing clothes that are a little warm for this time of year. But she knows herself. She knows what _ill_ feels like to Samantha Byrne, and it isn't this. This is—She's been working hard lately; it's just the stress and fatigue catching up with her.

Baird doesn't agree with her logic.

She's sitting on the couch, cleaning her Longshot, with a blanket draped over her shoulders. Baird comes down the stairs and immediately stops to glare at her.

"You cold or something?"

Sam looks up, one eyebrow raised; there's an odd edge to his voice. "So?"

"It's _Heat_ ," Baird says, still frowning. "You should barely be wearing any clothes, not huddled up in a blanket."

"I'm not _huddled_. It's just a tad nippy in here."

"We don't have air conditioning."

Miffed, she shrugs the blanket off her shoulders. "There. I'm fine. Happy?" She forcibly suppresses a shudder. A window must be open somewhere.

Baird narrows his eyes and stalks over to her. Before she can protest, he's pressing a very cool hand to her forehead and she has to resist the urge to lean in to him. Her body may be a little chilled, but she can feel the flush on her face.

"Liar," he practically growls, pressing harder. "You're running a frigging fever."

"Am not," she says. "I think I'd now if I was that sick."

"Right, because this situation is a testament to your powers of observation."

She rolls her eyes. "You said it yourself: it's the middle of summer. So my temperature's a bit hot, it's not the end of the world."

The way Baird's jaw clenches tells her how much he doesn't believe that. "If you're sick, I need to know about it. We're supposed to be going out to repair those radio towers tomorrow."

It's Sam's turn to frown. Is that all he's worrying about? Her somehow screwing up their assignment tomorrow? She knows he's been excited about this for the last week. Hearing that he gets to fix something complicated—and that he's the only person who can do it—always gives him an obnoxious ego boost. There have been these pesky dead zones in the forest surrounding Anvegad for years; after the Pendulum Wars, there was no real need to maintain the radio towers to boost the signal back to the fort. But lately it's been the source of minor annoyances and Hoffman wants the towers up and running before it becomes an emergency. Sam, Baird and Cole are slated to head out with Rossi tomorrow morning.

"Your concern is touching," Sam says dryly. "But I'm really fine."

He stares at her for a long moment, working his jaw. It's a wonder he hasn't cracked any teeth yet. "If you're going to be stubborn, there's no point arguing with you. Just know that I am one hundred percent certain you're sick and I will be waiting for you to admit that."

Sam rolls her eyes. "Uh-huh. Thanks." _He's just miffed because he thinks I'm going to make a dog's dinner out of his bloody mission that he's been excited about for weeks._

Unlike Sam, Baird actually has to work today. He heads out the door in his civilian clothes, on his way to the barracks where he'll change into his armour. He doesn't give her a kiss before he leaves.

Sam huffs and slouches down on the couch. She's trying her best not to feel slighted, but something under her ribs still tightens painfully. She pulls the blanket back around her shoulders and lets out a small cough.

 

* * *

 

She's lagging behind and she knows it. She has to force herself to keep pace with the rest of them. If she's not actively trying to walk faster, the distance between her and Cole—who, in the middle of the group, seems to be the only one willing to wait for her—grows rapidly.

_Baird's not right. I'm not sick. Just not used to hiking through the forest with a thirty-pound backpack strapped to me._

They've been walking for a few hours now. Baird and Rossi are at the front, having a silent pissing contest as they both try to stay just a few steps ahead of the other. Cole is walking slightly slower than he normally does, but he's not making a show of waiting for Sam and for that she could kiss him. Sam pauses for a moment at the back, readjusting her pack and taking a quick breather.

It's annoying because there's really no reason they have to hike out into the forest to reach these towers. A Raven would get them there much faster, but Hoffman and Bernie decided that this mission wasn't critical enough to require air transportation. True, Sorotki and Gettner probably have more important things to do than play taxi, but Sam's still irritated that she has to spend three days backpacking in the wilderness when the problem could have been solved just as easily in six hours.

"It'll be good for you lot to familiarize yourself with the landscape," Bernie had said cheerfully.

 _Never mind that I actually grew up here_ , Sam thinks crossly. Not that she would have any hope of guiding their squad to the radio towers without a map, but that's not the point.

She sighs inwardly and tries to stop feeling sorry for herself. She knows exactly why she's feeling so tetchy and it doesn't really have anything to do with their little hiking trip. Baird practically shoved a thermometer down her throat the second she woke up this morning and she all but spat it in his face because she wasn't a bloody _child_ , she would know if she was _that_ crook, honestly. That show of defiance had done nothing to improve Baird's bad temper and he'd basically ignored her after that.

 _Stick in the mud,_ Sam thinks vindictively. Like she'd planned this, just to ruin his day.

Damn it, she's falling behind again. She grits her teeth and starts power walking to catch up—

A bird bursts out of the underbrush not two feet away from her. She manages to hold back her startled scream but her pulse goes through the bloody roof. Everyone else turns around to get a look at what caused the commotion, and Sam gives them a weak smile.

"Bloody bird," she says.

Baird stares at her a second longer than the rest, and then faces forward again.

Sam takes a deep breath to steady herself. It's then that she realises something isn't right. Her heart is still racing and her hands suddenly feel very cold. She can't catch her breath. And then dots speckle her vision.

"Uh…" Sam starts as her ears begin to ring.

Baird looks back over his shoulder and she sees his eyes widen. That can't be good.

"I think—" she tries again, and then she passes out.

 

* * *

 

When she wakes up, her head is pillowed on something lumpy that turns out to be Baird's backpack. She blinks and Cole's face swims in to view, surrounded by the dark canvas of the tent. Evidently they made camp while she was out.

"Hey baby," Cole says, grinning. "Welcome back."

She attempts to shoot back a witty response, but it comes out as, "Ugh…"

"Yeah, fainting will do that to ya."

She groans. "Can we not call it _fainting_? That just sounds so… delicate."

"Whatever you want to call it, same thing happened. You're lucky Baird was so quick or you would have cracked your head on the ground."

Pushing herself into a sitting position, she glances around the tent. It's just the two of them. "Where _is_ Baird?"

"Outside, attempting to kill Rossi with his words."

Now that her senses are slowly sharpening, she can hear a ruckus coming from outside the tent: raised voices and angry tones. Baird and Rossi arguing again? How novel.

"How long was I out?" she asks.

"Only five minutes."

But it takes far less than five minutes for Baird to lose his cool; he has a short fuse at the best of times. From outside, there's an explosive shout: "That's not the _point_!"

Sam decides it's time to step in before her boyfriend commits murder. She gets gingerly to her feet, with Cole supporting her elbow. There's a brief second of dizziness and she sways a bit while Cole simultaneously sucks in a breath, but it passes quickly and she waves him off. She braces herself, making absolutely sure she can maintain upright mobility before reaching for the tent flap.

Outside, Baird and Rossi are having a showdown. Ever since Delta Squad's promotions, Baird and Rossi have both been the same rank—both sergeants, and it hasn't helped their working relationship. Rossi tries, bless him, but Baird has developed an irrational dislike of Drew and he isn't afraid to show it. Sam wonders who's brilliant idea it was to put them both on this assignment.

"I _told_ you to give her a lighter pack!" Baird spits. There's a crimson flush on the back of his neck, and Sam knows he's on the warpath.

"I didn't know you were actually serious!" Rossi shoots back, indignant.

" _Why_ would I have been joking?"

"I don't know, I thought you were being a chauvinistic _ass_ as per usual."

Rossi seems to realise that was the wrong thing to say almost instantly; his face blanches as Baird's goes red with fury. Time to intervene.

"Damon," Sam calls. "Leave off Drew, would you?"

Baird and Rossi both spin to look at her. The rage on Baird's face collapses into relief for half a second, before hardening into anger again.

"Don't even get me _started_ on you," he snarls.

"Come on, baby, calm down," Cole says, sounding tired.

"No, I'm not going to _calm down_ , how can you—"

"I'm fine," Sam says, with much more confidence than she feels. "You can stop throwing a wobbler any minute."

Baird's face darkens. "If you say you're fine one more time after _fainting_ , I swear I will punch you in the face."

"How terribly considerate of you," she says.

Baird frowns so deeply that Sam thinks his eyebrows might become a single entity. He storms towards her, leaving Rossi looking both relieved and lost behind him. Cole tactfully steps around Sam and begins talking to Rossi with artificial cheer. Baird reaches her just as another wave of vertigo hits her, and she moans quietly and reaches for something to steady herself. Then Baird's arm is around her waist, keeping her upright as her ears start to ring.

_Not again. Once was embarrassing enough._

"I think I need to sit down," she says, determined not to pass out again.

She drops to the ground quickly, before the dots start showing up again. Turning to Baird, she expects to see an expression of righteous anger on his face. Instead, she's genuinely surprised to see he looks distressed.

"How are you feeling?" he asks. "Seriously."

"I'm f—" A cough unexpectedly rises up in her throat, and she can't stop hacking for a solid minute. It's probably good that she hadn't finished her sentence, though, considering the way Baird's eyes flashed when she tried to say _fine_.

Baird makes a kind of strangled noise when she finally stops coughing. She clears her throat and smiles sheepishly. "Right, maybe I do feel a bit… less than fine. Like death, actually."

He sighs and squats down beside her. "I frigging _told_ you, why don't you ever—"

Sam pulls a face at the same time as Cole says loudly, "Yeah, I really _wouldn't_ do that, baby."

Baird whips around to scowl threateningly at their audience. "Can we have a minute, please?"

Cole and Rossi are only too eager to oblige. They quickly back away into the forest, chatting with forced levity and much more volume than necessary. When Baird turns back to her, worry and regret are evident in his expression.

"I have to go fix the radio tower," he says. His voice is much gentler than it would normally be. "We're in the dead zone so we can't call a Raven out to pick you up. But Rossi thinks we're only an hour away from the tower."

She nods. "I can make it."

"What? _No._ You're staying here with Cole. It's just… I have to go, okay?"

"Oh." She blinks at him. "I'm sure I can manage just fine without you, thanks."

He opens his mouth to say something, but then decides against it and lets out another sigh. Then he brushes his thumb across Sam's lower lip and leans in to kiss her, soft and quiet. She feels herself blushing at his gentleness. He must really be worried if he's acting like this.

"I'll be all right with Cole," she says when he pulls away. "Go do your thing."

"My _thing_ is kind of a complicated procedure, thanks."

"So go do it," she says and shoves him playfully.

As if on cue, Cole emerges from the trees. "I don't mean to hurry you, but if you want to call a Raven before sundown, you might want to get going soon."

Baird closes his eyes briefly before leaning in to kiss Sam on the forehead. "Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone."

"The faster you go, the faster we can get back to Anvil Gate."

He glares at her, evidently annoyed that she's trying to use logic in this situation. But he gets to his feet and jogs off to find Rossi. Sam smiles after him and shakes her head. Once she's feeling better, she'll have to take Rossi out for a drink and apologize.

Cole saunters over and sits down beside her. "So," he says.

"So," she repeats. If Cole has something to say, he'll say it. He's just probing to see if she's in the mood for talk. Or a lecture.

"Do you want to take this inside the tent, or are you good out here?"

Sam doesn't particularly want to move, but the sun is dipping lower in the sky and there's a cool breeze blowing through the trees. It would be nice and cooling if she wasn't—she sighs internally— _sick_.

"I think I can stumble back inside," she says.

She doesn't protest when Cole helps her to her feet. Her pride is wounded enough as it is; there's no more dignity to salvage. And if she faints again, she'll never hear the end of it from Baird. Cole holds the tent flap open for her and she ducks under his arm. Out of the wind, she feels warmer already.

"You get comfy," Cole says. "I'll dig out a sleeping bag."

Feeling fussed over like a child, Sam gingerly sets down. She watches in silence as Cole rips open Baird's pack and wonders if Baird left his bag behind on purpose to make better time. Cole finds what he's looking for and, instead of tossing it to her like he normally would, unrolls the sleeping bag and unzips it for her.

"Thanks, Gus," she says, working hard to keep the sullenness out of her voice. There's no point in being pissy with Cole when he's just being a sweetheart. As usual. He's a miracle that survived the Locust war.

Sam grabs the sleeping bag and pulls it around her shoulders. Cole frowns slightly, like he was expecting her to go down. Yeah, well, she's not feeling it just yet.

"I haven't seen Baird that mad in a long time," Cole remarks, an amused smile on his lips.

"Hmm," Sam answers. _That's how I know he cares._

"But seriously, Sammy—you should have stayed home. Got some rest. Pushing yourself probably just made it worse."

Cole's not wrong. But, of all people, he'll probably understand her reasoning. "I know," she says. "It's just… my mum used to tell me what to do. All the bloody time. And for a teenager with a bit of a rebellious streak, it was… frustrating. So even now, as an adult, I still hate being told what I can and can't do." She laughs quietly at how childish that sounds.

"I get it," Cole says. "And Baird likes to think that he knows best."

"But I guess this time he did."

"Mmhmm." Cole nods. "It happens, from time to time. And now that we've had our little heart-to-heart, you should sleep. Or your boyfriend will decapitate me when he gets back here."

"I'm not tired, Gus."

"Sammy." He gives her a gentle look. "You can't see your face, but I can. And baby, you don't look great."

"Gee, thanks." But she knows Cole means well. He's one of her best friends and he's looking out of her—not because she's Baird's girlfriend but because she's Cole's friend.

"Come on, baby. You'll get better faster if you give your body a break."

"Only because I love you, Gus." She lies on her back, squirming around as she tries to get comfortable on the lumpy ground.

She takes a long blink…

 

* * *

 

When Sam comes awake, it's to the discovery that her arms are wrapped around something solid and warm, and her face is squashed against the soft fabric of a shirt. She's sweaty and disoriented, tangled in blankets, with a throat so sore she doesn't even want to _attempt_ swallowing. Moments later she's absolutely mortified, as, in her sleep, she's apparently latched on to Cole like a demented octopus. Her eyes fly open and she pushes herself away quickly, gushing apologies.

"Bloody hell, Gus, I didn't mean—"

"Should I be worried that you were expecting Cole?"

She freezes at the sound of Baird's voice. And then she realises she isn't in the tent anymore; the ground is much too soft. They're back in their house, in their bed. Sam's in her pyjamas and Baird has changed into sweatpants and a grey t-shirt.

"How did we get here?" she asks, wincing at how raspy her voice sounds.

"You don't remember? I guess you were pretty delirious when I got back."

He only sounds half as uninterested as he usually does; Sam guesses that he's still genuinely worried. She fully intends to tease him about it but then a chill runs up her body. She shudders and makes a small noise, and then Baird's arm is around her shoulders, pulling her close again.

"The last thing I remember is talking to Cole in the tent." She settles back against him, resting her head in the crook of his neck. "I swear I only closed my eyes for a second."

"Yeah, that was a couple hours ago," he says, clearly aiming for mockery, but she can feel the tension in his body.

"I assume you got the tower up and running, though."

"Obviously. Otherwise you'd be sleeping off your fever in the woods."

She huffs, annoyed that he's annoyed that she doesn't know what's going on. Like he would be any more lucid if their situations were reversed. "I'm surprised you didn't drop me in the hospital to teach me a lesson."

Baird shifts underneath her. "Thought about it," he says. "But there's something going around the fort. All the beds were taken. Hayman gave you some aspirin to bring your fever down and said I could take you home."

Sam frowns slightly. "Doesn't sound like Hayman."

"Yeah, well, you also told Hayman to 'piss off' when she tried to examine you. And she's not the most patient person in the world."

All the colour drains from Sam's face. "Oh _god_ …" Suddenly she's dreading her next mandatory physical.

"It was very brave of you," he says with mock sincerity. She groans as she buries her face into the blankets. Baird laughs and begins to run his hand up and down her spine. "Don't worry. It was pretty obvious you weren't really with it."

"Still. Hayman's going to poison me the next time I see her."

"All the more incentive for you to not get sick."

She pokes her face out of her cocoon and glares up at him. "I didn't exactly _plan_ this. It's not like I woke up and thought, hey, you know what would be fun? Getting sick and passing out!"

He snorts, which is not the reaction she was going for. He shouldn't be _entertained_ by her discomfort. Before she can snap at him, he's pressing the back of his hand against her forehead.

"How are you feeling now?" he asks. "And please spare me the heroic bullshit. You're not Marcus."

Sam rolls her eyes but decides that she owes him the truth. "God-awful. But less so, I guess."

"Your fever's gone down a little. But you should get more rest."

"Seems to be the theme of the day," she grumbles.

Baird groans, long-suffering. "You're the most obnoxious patient in the world."

"You love it."

"Oh yes, I love backtalk. So very much."

She grins faintly. "Must be why you kissed me that first time."

"You are the most ridiculous person I've ever met."

"We're well suited, then."

"You're talking nonsense now."

Sam yawns, suddenly exhausted, and is debating whether or not she should go back to sleep when Baird tenses up.

"What is it," she says, struggling to keep her eyes open.

"It's just…" Baird lets out a slow breath. "I know I reacted… badly. I'm a Gear, and I know you are too, and I know I take orders but I'm also used to having the authority to make people do what I tell them. But you're not just a soldier with a lower rank than me; you're my—" He bites his lower lip, clearly struggling for the words. "My partner," he finally settles on.

She savours this moment for a while, not saying anything. It takes a lot to get Baird in this kind of mood. She breathes deeply, feeling safe and loved despite how much this illness makes her feel like shit.

"You're kind of a sappy bastard when I'm sick," she sighs. "Maybe I should do this more often."

His shoulders shake with a poorly suppressed laugh. He doesn't respond, but he doesn't immediately deflect either. She smiles to herself.

"You don't have to stay, you know," she says, yawning again. "I'll probably just get you sick too."

"I'm _fine_ right here," he answers, a touch of humour in his tone. "Go back to sleep."

"Yes, dear," she mumbles, snuggling up against him. She closes her eyes.


End file.
